


Bindings

by prodigalsanyo



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Boarding School, High School, Indian Character, Other, Size Difference, Stereotypical Jokes by one Vijay Chandasara, Teen Pregnancy, Trans Malcolm Bright, Unplanned Pregnancy, no beta we die like men, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25685692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodigalsanyo/pseuds/prodigalsanyo
Summary: High School AU:  Vijay meets his roomie in senior year of boarding school.[AKA:  Author did a moral inventory of their soul for hitherto unknown gender biases, and wrote high school love story between Vijay and a FTM Malcolm Bright.]
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Vijay Chandasara
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16
Collections: PSon Goblin Swap Summer 2020!





	Bindings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheCosmicMushroom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCosmicMushroom/gifts).



> [ BASED ON THIS PROMPT ]
> 
> Vijay and Malcolm have a wild fling during their boarding school days prior to their falling out (and their summer break) that ends with a pregnant Malcolm, who agonizes over what to do about it. When the break ends and Vijay spots a bump on Malcolm's tummy, it drives him to try and reconnect with his former (but is it really so former?) flame.

For anyone who ships their progeny off to a Connecticut boarding school, Granite Bay Academy remains a cut above the rest. The sons and the scions of American heritage families attend, befriend, and then spend very little time with outsiders. 

Vijay Chandasara has his work cut out for him. Due to criminal repercussions that are completely not his fault, he is specially transferred in the summer preceding his senior year from his private academy in New York to Granite Bay Academy (Go Wyverns!). Tall, brown, and with a reputation, he considers himself a triple threat. He has to be, when his name gets him profiled on the regular. If people assume that he is a douche bag because his name is special and he likes to cut loose, Vijay tries not to disappoint.

"Where is your family from, Chand-y-Sarah? Are you Hindu?" asks Abraham Pritzkerr. Pritzkerr's family founded an industrial conglomerate in Hospitality/Tourism. He's worth 20 Billion if he stays clean.

"I'm from the Upper East Side where I was borned," answers Vijay.

"The upper east side of where? The Himalayas? Do you eat only a vegetarian diet?" persists Abraham in his small talk.

"We definitely eat meat. My family lives close to a deli," says Vijay. He waits to see if he should specify within the city of New York.

"Ah, I know where that is. New Delhi is the capital city. I have not been to the Taj Mahal. Mother is concerned about her personal safety in streets and markets as well as my sisters' safety," says Abraham.

"You should go there, if you can literally be anywhere else," says Vijay. Abraham's face is pasty like underbaked naan bread, and Vijay decides not to finish his sentence on a mean note. He smacks Abraham's shoulder. "Nice talking to you, Hamlet."

He pictures 365 more days of cricket with classmates like minded to Abraham Pritzkerr and he wants to jump the train home and beg to finish out his sentence as a teenager in a public high school.

"Charmander, I must take you to your dorm room! I'm supposed to see you well oriented!" urges Abraham, Hamlet, Hammy?

"Okay, Squirtle. Lead the way," replies Vijay. When Abraham realizes his misnomer, Vijay is quick to brush it off. He is used to people's complicated relationship with his name. They walk through corridors lined with oil paintings, bronze busts, and beautiful stonework and tiling which aged well over centuries as the original agricultural property transitioned into a top school. Vijay whistles. "Do I get my own chambers, Hammy?"

"Please don't call me Hammy. I hear it enough from my sisters," says Abraham.

"You got it, dude. You're the only boy in your family?"

"Yes. Only my family are allowed to refer to me as such," answers Abraham. He brings them down a corridor with doors made from different woods. It's an elegant way to mark the similar doors aside from the iron numbers anchored to the door. 

"No one gets their own room without special accommodation," informs Abraham. "Typically who you room and board with in your freshman year is who you stay with until the end of your career. As you are a transfer case which is in and of itself an unusual circumstance, you are being lodged with an individual whose roommate moved across the pond."

"Lucky them. They're in Hogwarts now, I presume," replies Vijay.

"What..." Abraham manages a discomfited smile. "That's cleverness. I wouldn't rely on cleverness to be your calling card, Chand-a-Sarah, especially not with our instructors. Answers are given in the spirit of brevity. If you do not know, own up to your crime."

Vijay recognizes the number to his room from formal missives printed on thick stationary. He shoves in his key and pulls before Abraham reminds him to knock.

A shrimpy kid inside Vijay's room bolts upright into standing from their desk. The kid clasps a three ringed binder to their chest. Their tie hangs over the school binder, uniform white shirt rumpled at odd angles from hanging unbuttoned.

"Do they not knock where you're from?!" the kid yells, with a huffy toss of his brown hair. His face and neck are blotched red and his hair falls into his bloodshot eyes. They're quite blue and Vijay is at a loss for words.

"Didn't mean to catch you choking the chicken," says Vijay. At Abraham's bemused expression, Vijay explains, "It's a saying from my peeps. Who also were borned here."

"I'm aware that you are American born," says Abraham. "I just thought you'd be more... more..."

"Apu?" suggests Vijay good-naturedly.

"No! Multicultural!" Abraham replies. He collects himself. "I can see that you two are well matched. Vijay Chand-a-Sarah, meet Whitly. He's clever, too. You already have so much in common. As your Resident Advisor, I shouldn't expect any problems. Welcome to Granite Bay."

"Where you going, Whitly?" asks Vijay. He needs to use the bathroom and Abraham really left him to his tiny and skittish roommate.

"I'm going to the lavatory!" Whitly snaps. He makes himself smaller and sidles around Vijay very speedily, school binder firmly on his chest.

"With your school notes?" points out Vijay.

"Yes. Don't you do your best thinking on the toilet?" says Whitly. Regret and embarrassment flicker on his face as his words catch up to him. He maintains his stride but steps sideways to increase distance when Vijay keeps up. "And why are you following me?"

"I need to drop a deuce, man. Fresh off the soul train," says Vijay. "It was rocking me too much for me to unload. Fast tracks. Big Macs. Not my greatest adventure."

"Enjoy," says Whitly. He points at an arched blue door embellished with a large hanging iron ring. Vijay finds himself ditched for the second time in half an hour. He forgot his lanyard inside the room. The door is locked and stays locked when he knocks.

His stomach gurgles, a sign of reconciliation if Vijay would kindly nourish his body. The dilemma of who he will sit with for supper is resolved as soon as Vijay takes his handsome self into the dining hall. Most of the tables are taken by students with their mates except for a bistro table with a familiar occupant. A sole occupant.

Whitly sits ramrod straight. He ignores his bowl of barely touched stew in favor of a book. His blue eyes lift from underneath his pretty lashes when Vijay places his food tray upon the tabletop.

"Hey roomie," greets Vijay. When he receives no response, he sits down and rustles his box of chips. They're very crunchy as they are ribbon cut potatoes. Whitly's lips pinch white as the condiments bottle farts out ketchup.

"I can't do this," says Whitly. He closes his book, marking his progress with a faded receipt. The front of the cover depicts blood in water taking the shape of a crimson skull. His hand covers his heart and he exhales. "Hi, my name is Malcolm. My father is a convicted serial killer."

A bright smile pastes the lower half of Malcolm's face. "I'm not like other boys," says Malcolm in a chipper tone.

Vijay almost blows on his fingertips like he's throwing down dice; he waves off Malcolm's pissy introduction.

"My daddy is in a maximum security federal prison for importing liquid heroin, black gold, etc. He'll be out in six months. I'm doing time here because it's unlikely that gangsters who my daddy snitched on will get past your dragons. Go team," says Vijay.

"We're the Granite Bay Wyverns," says Malcolm. "Wyverns have two legs."

"Whatever. They're both lizards that do the tongue thing," says Vijay, sticking out his tongue and wagging it for illustrative purposes.

Malcolm blinks first. "I'm sorry about your father and what your family has gone through. I shouldn't have judged."

"Back atcha, baby boy," says Vijay.

When Malcolm doesn't object quickly enough, "baby boy" sticks.

* * *

Vijay did team sports at his previous academy. His academic advisor encourages him to apply himself for the football team. The coach lets him try out, but as Vijay anticipates, the team was unofficially filled with players who the coach can depend on, despite his academic advisor's advice.

"Try out for the spring. You like soccer. You were a forward player in JV," insists Vijay's advisor.

"What do I do until then? I'm going to get out of shape," says Vijay.

"You get into shape academically. Who's your roommate?" asks his advisor.

"Whitly."

"He's a good kid. Study with him. Get your averages up. Certain courses are weighted at 1.03 credit which means that your B's might not survive the standards of our academy. Focus on your grades this fall. When you've adjusted to the culture on campus, the demands of practice schedules and away games next semester won't overwhelm you. You can finish strong."

"What makes you think I'd make the cut?" challenges Vijay.

"If you don't think you will, you won't," replies his advisor. Vijay would brush off the advice if his advisor were chunky or boorish or anything less than competent. Vijay's dad says the same thing when he calls Vijay at school.

"I want to see you play when I'm released," says his dad. "I'm sorry I didn't before, _maro popat_." He talks to Vijay like he used to before lucrative business turned him into a controlling and ill-tempered patriarch.

Vijay sees himself out on the green, legs cramped, eyes stinging, sun blazing on the ball as he scores. He has to make it, for their family. 

His study session with Malcolm is not off to a good start. 

"If I didn't know what mafias do to families, I would leave you to fend for yourself," begins Malcolm in irritation. They have to use Malcolm's notes because Vijay's has gaps.

"I just listen in class and do the homework. That always worked," complains Vijay.

"Yeah, that's great. Have you ever heard of drills?" fires back Malcolm. He makes Vijay sit down with a blank piece of paper and re-write his notes straight from memory. "When the instructor says supplemental reading, that's your warning."

"I'd like to see you write your notes from scratch," says Vijay. He pushes over a blank college-lined paper and grabs the bag of licorice. He can't watch Malcolm eat licorice because it's distracting. Malcolm sometimes leaves it in his mouth pursed into a gentle suck and the licorice bobs up and down between his really pink lips.

While Vijay hovers and bites the licorice from the middle, Malcolm reproduces flawless notes in slightly neater handwriting. He is annoyingly useful.

Malcolm is also neurotically organized. He gets nauseous and bitches when Vijay brings cooked food to their room. Vijay can't wait to throw off his school uniform so he can jog around the school grounds in T-shirt and gym shorts or make time for dead lifts and squats in the weight room. Whereas Malcolm changes from school uniform to corporate casual. He wears a skinny tie on weekends, his clothes structured to emphasize the straight lines of his lean build.

Vijay almost drops a glass beaker in Chemistry lab when Malcolm rolls up his sleeves. He has never seen so much of Malcolm.

Vijay understands that he could do worse for a roommate. Malcolm never stinks despite his layers when Vijay is trapped in a classroom that feels like it's hooked up to a boiler. When the snow hits, Vijay gets the worst cold of his life and somehow Malcolm keeps an apothecary's worth of medicine in his habitually locked armoire.

Vijay peeks when he's excused from classes due to illness. Malcolm locked up one side but didn't push the other door in. Vijay spies what looks like a soft medical brace with long velcro straps. If he's got the energy to snoop, then Vijay has got the cold beat. 

Malcolm pushes himself too hard and it's a matter of time before Vijay grabs him in an apparent dizzy spell. While Malcolm doesn't outright faint, their hard floor isn't forgiving and the furniture has sharp edges. Malcolm is light as a bird. It takes nothing for Vijay to touch him and get him to his bed. Vijay catches himself almost on top of Malcolm and he backs off. He realizes that this is the first time that he's caught Malcolm passed out in bed.

Malcolm's laundry hamper fills up with clothes and the books and notebooks on his desk move around, but when Vijay pauses for thought, he realizes that he always falls asleep alone in the room when Malcolm is out studying. Vijay assumes that Malcolm sleeps because the smell of coffee and the shuffling noises of Malcolm's textbooks consistently wake up Vijay before morning classes. 

Vijay watches soccer video clips when Malcolm moans deep and long in troubled sleep. Vijay smirks bemusedly but then adjusts himself in his pants. He catches himself staring at Malcolm sprawled on top of his covers fully buttoned up with his loafers on. Malcolm sleeps with his arms raised above his head. Vijay goes back to soccer videos.

Then Malcolm sits up in bed with a shriek and bolts for the door.

"Whitly, what the fuck?!" Vijay has never seen anyone lose it who wasn't an addict in the subway or a mentally ill vagrant in the streets. Malcolm claws at the door frame with the knob inches below where his nails scrape the varnish. His eyes twitch under half open lids and his voice is pitched in terror through hard clenched teeth.

"No! Let me out! Let me out!" Malcolm isn't screaming but it's heart pounding desperation that he's pleading with inside his nightmares. 

Vijay pulls him from the door and flattens him onto the bed. Malcolm habitually keeps a glass of water by his bedside. Vijay splashes water onto Malcolm who sputters beneath him. His lips twist in a grimace as he blinks water out of his eyes. 

"Where's the fire?" asks Malcolm.

"Do you normally sleepwalk and freak yourself out or is this new?" asks Vijay. He releases Malcolm's arms and rolls more of his weight onto the mattress. "There goes the vampire theory."

"Vampire?" repeats Malcolm. He speaks slowly from his overtaxed body and his abrupt awakening.

"You're out all night without sleeping, you almost never go outside, and you don't eat," says Vijay. "Plus you act all smart like you've been studying for centuries."

"Or perhaps I'm just being courteous by not waking up my roommate with my night terrors," says Malcolm. He scrubs his face, yawns, and Vijay watches water drip from Malcolm's lashes.

"I do sleep, in controlled increments to minimize dreaming," answers Malcolm.

"Whitly, you sound like an immortal baddy," responds Vijay. He's on his side and he doesn't want to get up without some answers.

"Alright. I'll humor you. The night terrors are not, as most believe, a side effect of childhood trauma. It's all a ruse for me to play on your sympathies so I can suck you dry," says Malcolm. His lids touch down and then he jerks himself awake, lips parting as he shakes himself. He lightly pushes at Vijay, like paper to rock. "Oh God, I need to go for a walk. Can't sleep."

"You're going to out yourself as a bloodsucker," says Vijay. "Chill out here. Keep a low profile." He tells Malcolm to wait and he grabs his laptop, chock full of bootlegged movies. He puts the laptop on a chair and they sit with their feet dangling from the twin mattress, backs to the wall, shoulder to shoulder. Vijay wears a long sleeve and basketball shorts while Malcolm remains in full uniform.

Vijay puts on the Matrix, a movie that he considers a safe bet. 

"Why are you so hard on yourself, man?" asks Vijay. "I get the whole pressure thing. At my old school, I knew so many kids whose parents made them sleep, eat, and study. But you don't sleep and you don't eat."

Vijay misses his friends. He misses crowding a lunch table with his buddies. Malcolm could be his friend but he only fills one seat.

"I have to be the best. I want Harvard," answers Malcolm. "One day, I'll be in law enforcement, pitting myself against criminal minds. If that doesn't pan out, then I'm going to prosecute murderers."

Malcolm shakes Vijay's shoulder. "Is that funny to you?"

"I was expecting you to say President," answers Vijay. He pats Malcolm's hand which feels soft.

"Not with my background," says Malcolm. He groans. "My father would love that. Feather in his cap."

"I haven't heard of Harvard graduates becoming cops," says Vijay. 

"Shhhh, don't talk during the movie," says Malcolm. The laptop screen glows on his tired smile.

Classes are hell for Vijay the next two days. Vijay stays up a few hours later while Malcolm sleeps; he's there to shake his roommate out of night terrors. Then he crashes as Malcolm watches movies or catches up on "supplemental reading."

"I'm going to the R.A. about getting my own room. The situation is untenable and requires a long term solution," says Malcolm.

Malcolm finds Abraham, their R.A., and that gets both him and Vijay a meeting with a Campus Life Coordinator. 

"No offense to Whitly, but he should have been able to keep his own room. It's not fair to me either that you placed me with someone whose medical condition will affect my grades. When he doesn't sleep, I know about it," states Vijay. He sits straighter for maximum height, keeping his anger politely checked.

The coordinator acknowledges their grievance and their R.A. agrees to check in with them weekly until space opens up for Vijay. Vijay may be a newcomer, but he doesn't expect his roommate situation to change by next semester. 

"Let's think about what we can do sooner rather than later. We should start a club," suggests Vijay. Maybe it's the lack of sleep. They're back to another late night flick on Vijay's bed after Malcolm has two consecutive rounds of fitful screaming.

"What kind of club?" asks Malcolm with sincere interest. Maybe it's the sleep that he's getting at Vijay's expense.

"Hear me out. The rejects. The bad seeds. The corner table boys. " Vijay is on fire as he pitches his ideas.

"Would membership be exclusive to the bad dad kids?" responds Malcolm.

"Good one, Whitly! I like the sound of dat but consider the Corner Table Boys." Vijay strokes his chin hairs, impressed with himself. "We're classmates with kids who are Rockefeller, Ford, Mellon, and one living Kennedy. Bad dad potench everywhere." 

Vijay clicks his teeth twice, folding down his ring finger and pinky to pantomime cocking a pistol.

"I wouldn't talk to Kennedy with guns blazing," says Malcolm. "And anyway, we would need to find faculty or staff who would sign on as our club sponsor. We do what they say to stay compliant. Circulars, pamphlets, literature which we publish for meetings or fundraisers cannot be obscene or political. We need a minimum of ten interested signatures on a petition..."

Vijay falls asleep with his head on Malcolm's hooded sweater.

About 11 business days later, Vijay follows up on his proposal. Malcolm approaches their little round bistro table with his usual bowl of soup. He has nowhere to set down his lunch between Vijay's speakers playing "Get Ur Freak On" by Missy Elliott and the neatly folded T-shirts, a cup full of individually wrapped Twizzlers, and a clipboard with pens.

"Mrs. Tubman, the lunch lady, she's in," says Vijay. "Her dad sold lemons to unsuspecting drivers."

Vijay flaps open a T-shirt and proudly displays the logo in circular font befitting a retro diner with milkshakes and burgers: Corner Table Boys. It's a mess of aqua green, magenta, and cotton candy pink.

"Vijay, this is not how it's done," says Malcolm. He sits with the tray in his lap. He does not wear the shirt though he is careful not to drip soup on the white cotton.

"It's handled. I'll do the recruitment work. You already have the baddest of dads," says Vijay.

What saves Malcolm is the fact that kids signed up for free merchandise and that Mrs. Tubman the lunch lady is not technically full-time staff, disqualifying her from club sponsorship eligibility.

"For what it's worth, I am impressed with how quickly you put together your program," says Malcolm.

"I would've been faster if I had paid for rushed shipping," says Vijay. "I might've picked up a few more bad boys before the Man shut us down."

When Malcolm is better rested, he shows Vijay the leather cuffs that go around his wrists when the night terrors become frequent. In order to wear them comfortably as sleep restraints, Malcolm dresses down in a T-shirt and plain blue pajama bottoms. He wears their T-shirt.

"Buddy, you are lookin' good!" approves Vijay. "Corner Table Boys for life!"

Malcolm smooths down the front of his shirt. His eyes crinkle with a smile that hangs like a sunny portrait.

"Let's do drugs," says Vijay. "What's a club without recreational activities?"

"Pass. I'm on a ton of drugs," retorts Malcolm. When Vijay boos him, Malcolm says something surprising. "After our next round of exams, I would be down to sneak alcohol on to our dry campus."

"Done," says Vijay. He doesn't even have to sleep on it. Getting liquored up with Malcolm sounds perfect.

At some point, it's not Malcolm's night terrors that keep Vijay up at night. With Malcolm physically restrained, all that Vijay has to do for a good night's rest is to put in earbuds or comfortable music headphones that don't make his ears sweat.

The problem is how Malcolm looks when he's tied to his bed with his eye mask and his mouthguard. Vijay doesn't tell his schoolmates about it. How can he, when he needs to jerk it in the shower every night before bed? And sometimes in the morning, too, when Malcolm forgets to tuck away the leather cuffs??

When they get progress reports reflecting Vijay's boosted GPA, the first person Vijay shows is Malcolm. Malcolm surprises him with a gift box of snacks and movie DVDs as an early Christmas present before holiday break.

"Did you think it was books?" smirks Malcolm over their table.

Vijay darts his eyes around the dining hall which remains empty, but not for long.

"Mistletoe," he says. Then he bends over the table to kiss Malcolm. The rounded edge of the table digs into Vijay's stomach. Malcolm makes a soft noise against his lips, but he kisses back. He tilts his head up for Vijay, for more.

"Happy holidays, baby boy," he says. Vijay is in such a hurry to leave a lasting impression that he forgets to grab his Christmas present.

* * *

Screwing your roommate, as Vijay understands it, is bad policy. Malcolm seems to understand it more so because in the days leading up to their winter break, he is careful not to be in their room except to sleep for maybe three hours. If not for the exam rush, Vijay would bug him about the avoidance. They continue to study together in a common room area because the end semester exams are cumulative. They don't talk about holiday plans or recreational activities as Corner Table Boys. More than once, Malcolm's voice is in his ear telling him, rather hypocritically, to go to bed. 

"You should cut yourself a break, too, baby boy. Coming with?" asks Vijay. He stretches until his arms flex to the sky. 

"I can't," says Malcolm, ears red. His embarrassment colors his neck and, Vijay suspects, all the way down to his chest underneath his posh lounge wear.

Vijay thinks that Malcolm will likely ditch him and escape home when he wraps up his last test. He's more relieved than he should be when he gets a short text from Malcolm about dinner. 

"I thought you would peace out without saying bye," says Vijay at their usual meal time.

"I didn't want to make it weirder," says Malcolm. He picks at his melted cheese panini. "I'm going to visit my dad over break. Maybe twice." He pushes a mini blueberry muffin around his tray. "When we get back from break, I have to show you something."

"Dude, you are not going to make me wait all break to find out what," insists Vijay. "Can you tell me now? I might die in these ancient halls without finding out." He smirks at Malcolm. "I would haunt your ass."

"You're not going home for the holidays?" asks Malcolm.

"My mom is selling the house. We're in a rental house in Jersey. Some shady people know where we live. None of us can go back," says Vijay. "I'm going to stay up late and sleep in and get buff."

"Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Not like you can do anything for me. Mom wants me here where it's safe and out of the way, until the hearings are over for the people that my dad informed on," answers Vijay.

Malcolm dumps his food and tells Vijay to follow him. They go out of the dining hall and Malcolm takes him to an ornate door that is not an actual entrance. The doorway is wreathed with holly and spruce trimmings. Hanging lights add warmth to their faces which flush in the cold. 

"Look up," says Malcolm. When Vijay does so, he spots a nondescript green sprig with red berries. Malcolm steps closer and his gloved hands settle on Vijay's coat sleeve. Vijay bows his head and their noses brush. Malcolm's first time kissing him is more than a fly by pressure on their lips. Malcolm's hair is stiff with gel but the hair on the back of his head is soft on and around Vijay's fingers. Vijay picks him up and puts him against the stones. The buttons on their coats catch. Vijay's hand cushions Malcolm's head from getting bumped.

Surprise makes Malcolm's jaws drop and Vijay opens his mouth a little wider, in a warm and firm press. They laugh while figuring out their height differences. Vijay's bottom lip gets more attention despite Malcolm standing on his toes. Vijay tries slanting into Malcolm, leaning his weight onto his dominant hand splayed on rough gray stones. Malcolm's hands slowly cup Vijay's chin, his fingers skimming the coarse and thick stubble growing unchecked from consecutive exam days.

Thoroughly kissed is a good look on Malcolm. Stiff and lean clumps of hair fall awkwardly over his smooth and white forehead. The irises of his eyes are a perfect crystalline circle, thinned out by his blown pupils. The dimples from his teasing smile almost kill Vijay. Vijay bites his own bottom lip, his brown eyes dipping to look at Malcolm's little pink tongue poking out from his uniform white teeth and his lips puffy from Vijay's kisses. 

Vijay puts his arms around Malcolm in a hug. "Call me. Don't say you'll call me and lose my number, Whitly."

"I will, just to make sure you're alive. I wouldn't want to come back to a funny smell in our room," says Malcolm. He's snug and cozy in Vijay's arms.

* * *

Vijay spends most of holiday break kicking around a ball. He tries to treat his exile from civilization as a wilderness retreat in his transformation montage. Running around on school property breaks any and all optimistic illusions he has about his body's conditioning. 

A couple other kids also have permission to stay in their dorms for holiday break. He's glad to have Marsalis and Manning to spot for him in the weight room. Manning did soccer as JV and winds up coaching Vijay and kicking Marsalis's butt into exercise. They have to eat at the same time with on-campus faculty or starve. Vijay settles into his usual chair at their central table where he sees the corner table. He shovels down chicken breasts and roasted vegetables because his sore muscles feel worse when he's hungry.

He thinks about what it is that Malcolm wants to show him; he already wants to see more. 

* * *

The slamming of doors and the ruckus of women and small children in families dropping off students precede the commencement of spring classes at Granite Bay Academy. 

Malcolm's mother and sister say hello. Vijay is not at all surprised that Mrs. Whitly is a stone cold fox. His sister is a cutie pie. Malcolm quietly dies as his mother bemoans the hardship of sharing rooms.

"I want you safe, sweetheart," pouts Mrs. Whitly, patting her son's unblemished cheek. "I am having a word with your headmaster."

She flashes a dazzling smile at Vijay. "Don't get too comfortable here, young man."

Her son has other ideas. In Vijay's defense, he is in his bed. He didn't cross no lines. Malcolm comes over with his laptop and his psych thriller movie. Malcolm cautiously tucks his palms around Vijay's upper arm and they snuggle up with sparkling water and crispy snacks.

"Oh my, you worked out," comments Malcolm.

"I can pick you up with one arm," says Vijay. Malcolm laughs at him but then he glances sideways at Vijay. They pause the movie for a demonstration. With some trepidation, Malcolm hooks onto Vijay's bent arm. He laughs as his feet lift several inches off the floor. When Vijay lowers him onto the floor, Vijay's hand stabilizes the small of his back.

They don't have their thick wool coats on this time and they're not keeping a lookout for spectators. Malcolm's fingertips press his broader back muscles. His palms rub Malcolm's lean back. Vijay crushes Malcolm in a kiss that makes his ears tingle. The world narrows to how Malcolm tastes and how his soft lips give in when Vijay goes for it. Malcolm feels hot through his clothes and Vijay wonders if his whole body blushes when he's kissed.

Malcolm pants for breath when he talks. "Vijay, I have to show you something. You're going to see it at this rate."

He sounds more scared than a little. Vijay brings him the sparkling water and drinking something makes him breathe. Then it's Vijay's turn to gulp when Malcolm pulls his sweater over his head. His hair flutters around his eyes. Vijay's teeth clamp down in anticipation. He likes how Malcolm's hands look, the size of them in comparison to his face, the blue veins, fingers nimble as he unbuttons a mint green shirt and pulls apart the lapels.

"I hate that you didn't knock before I met you," begins Malcolm. "I wasn't wearing my chest guard when you walked in. You have to air out your skin to avoid infections and scarring from friction." Vijay recognizes the soft brace that he peeked at inside Malcolm's armoire. Malcolm doesn't take it off, but he rips at some velcro and tugs down, momentarily compressing his biceps to emphasize the curved swell.

"If you want off the crazy train, here be your stop," says Malcolm.

"I've been onboard since serial killer father," says Vijay. "Corner table boys, for life."

Vijay thinks that they need a club handshake and visualizes crossways fist bumps followed by a sumo leap chest bump. He looks to Malcolm with hopeful optimism. "Are you going to... ?"

"Chest guard stays on," informs Malcolm.

Vijay grabs the back of his T-shirt and pulls it up and off. He licks his teeth in what he hopes is an irresistible smile. He shimmies his nekkid shoulders. "Get over here, Whitly. It's draughty 'n' shit."

Malcolm rolls his eyes and shoves at Vijay, but it gets his hands on Vijay's bare chest. Vijay shivers from Malcolm petting the dark and wavy hairs on his chest, the mound of his palm on top of Vijay's brown nipple perking up from the attention.

"You look great. It's beautiful." Malcolm's tone is sincere admiration, ending on a wistful note. Vijay grabs the sleeves of his arms and steps backward. The mattress groans from his dense weight. When Malcolm curls up on Vijay's lap, his ass fits one thigh.

"You're so hot, baby boy." He kisses along Malcolm's jaw which is petal soft. "Fuck, anything else you want to get off your chest?"

Malcolm tremulously guides Vijay's hands to the chest binder. "If you want me to be your boyfriend. Don't squeeze."

Vijay cautiously splays his fingers over the cotton. Vijay's touch grazes Malcolm's collarbone, feels the tuft of hair beneath his underarm. He pushes down Malcolm's loosened sleeve and kisses his petite shoulder.

All Vijay can think is that his boyfriend is pretty when he cries.

* * *

He owes his old man for pressuring him to take the SATs in his junior year. Vijay gets to focus on soccer, friends, and his hot little boyfriend. The way that senior year is meant to be experienced. If not for parking restrictions, the only thing missing is his own car to drive, for taking Malcolm to other places for make out sessions. 

If any of the pals at his old academy would've told him that he would be dating a total egghead, Vijay wouldn't have believed it. He gets bored easily and he's learned to let go when he's tapped out. Whereas Malcolm is such an over thinker and he takes his time with Vijay. Watching him go slow doesn't turn Vijay off.

In fact, Vijay is trying to slow his own roll. Especially when Malcolm's lips are warming his cock. Like right now. Vijay is going to blow it right now because fuck. He grips the edge of the mattress and practically smashes the bed springs into flat coils. Vijay's head tips back when Malcolm catches his eye. Vijay's boyfriend looks damn happy down there, cheek pillowed on his blue and orange Knicks basketball shorts. 

"Oh, baby boy," Vijay moans. His breath catches. Malcolm's eye brims over, lashes wet, as he swallows. Vijay pulls his hair and chases the soft hot little tight clench. Malcolm gags it from Vijay humping his face. Vijay makes a noise that's so unmanly, it's like a kitten crying, but he can't help himself. Malcolm's tongue striping his cock after he comes is too much.

He's feeling relief or gratitude when they cuddle. He likes to put Malcolm on top and see what he does. They are extra comfortable because Malcolm tore off his cotton binder. Malcolm's hair is destroyed and his mouth is a damp mess. Malcolm's uniform shirt is half-buttoned and Vijay can see a bare strip of skin. Malcolm's nipples show through the white. Malcolm's pants bulge from his own busy hand. 

"Can I help?" Vijay says. He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout.

Vijay couldn't wait to show Malcolm his goods, but anything below Malcolm's waist is a big ask. Vijay hopes to work his way down to getting his hands under the back of Malcolm's pants and fingering his ass. Baby steps. Baby boy steps.

"Ah, yes. You can touch over," says Malcolm. Vijay almost pumps his arm for this small victory. Vijay braces a hand on Malcolm's shoulder blade and he rolls them until Malcolm is on the bottom.

"Come here, gorgeous," says Vijay. He gets his elbow under Malcolm's neck. Vijay's free hand pats his brown hair which feels hot and slightly damp from sweat. He uses his palm to stroke down Malcolm's pecs, careful not to squeeze. Vijay flexes his hand, his palm taut as he rubs a slow circle on Malcolm's chest.

"Vijay," huffs Malcolm.

"The calvary is on the way," says Vijay. He grins, proud of himself for making Malcolm want it. The heel of his palm presses between the seams of Malcolm's pants, touching over the khaki. Vijay smells sex when Malcolm pulls his hand out of his pants and lets Vijay take over. He pins down Malcolm with a needful kiss and furiously rubs one out for him. Malcolm's legs shake and he bucks strongly enough that he almost shoves Vijay off the twin mattress.

Mutually blanketed by warmth and glowing, Vijay drifts into a nap.

Malcolm wakes him up to get dinner. He is primped and groomed for decency's sake. He washed and combed his hair. His cuffs and collar look pressed. Belt and shoes polished. Malcolm looks like he usually does, but Vijay can see the differences from last semester. He can tell that Malcolm's brain isn't all cramped up from a bajillion thoughts. His eyes radiate affection as he pokes Vijay.

Vijay and Malcolm grab their usual and head toward their corner table. Manning is sitting with one-third of their soccer team. One chair is vacant except for Ellison's cleats. Ellison is number 10, their Attacking Midfielder. 

"Number 11!!" Manning calls over to Vijay who waves. Vijay is their Left Midfielder.

"Sup, numbah 1? Catch anything good?" replies Vijay. Manning groans even though he's used to such comments as their #1 goalkeeper.

From another table, Marsalis tries to get Vijay's attention, too. Marsalis sits with kids who they recognize from the school's orchestra.

"What's jazzin', Mars?" Vijay greets Marsalis. 

Malcolm is seated by the time Vijay sets down his dinner tray. Malcolm's oyster crackers are in his soup but he doesn't dig in his spoon until Vijay eats as well.

"Where are you planning to go to school?" asks Malcolm. 

"Well, Julliard is a no after I bombed my American Idol audition," begins Vijay.

"What schools, Chandasara?" says Malcolm.

"Columbia, Fordham, and NYU," Vijay tells him. He doesn't say anything until he's done eating. "Why are you bringing this up now? Spring ain't even sprung."

"I applied for number one in November. The decision was mailed to my house in December." Malcolm wrings his napkin before smoothing it down. "I got in."

"Oh damn, congrats!" says Vijay. He jumps up and hugs Malcolm's shoulders, ruffling his hair. He then gawks at Malcolm askance. "Are you wearing my cologne?" He smells it all over Malcolm.

"I took a sample," says Malcolm. His lips quirk with an air of mischief as subtle as cologne. Vijay grabs their trays and dumps them. Malcolm quickly throws on his pea coat as Vijay breezes by his friends. When they are outside, Vijay turns on his heel with Malcolm asking questions. They are by an ebony black lamp post with a pyramidal stone base. Malcolm is shivering in the cold with his coat open. Vijay pulls Malcolm in and warms him up for a quick kiss.

"I sent my transcript and scores to BSU," says Vijay. "I can't make any promises. But I want you to know."

"Vijay, I didn't ask you to do that. Why," says Malcolm, like he needs to hear why Vijay might take business finances at a school less than an hour's drive from Cambridge.

"If I don't get Columbia, I'll show up anywhere else. I'm easy like that," says Vijay.

"You have to go to your first pick," says Malcolm. He smacks Vijay. "I mean it! You have to think long-term. Five years, ten years."

"It's funny you say that when you're the one making snap decisions," says Vijay. "You're already thinking about when you'll break up with me. That's why you don't try to hang out with my friends. Why you go straight to our table without so much as a ‘hey ya.'"

"Your friends and I don't get along. We didn't in the past and I see no reason why that would change in the tail end of our last year," says Malcolm. "They don't think much of my family and they are entitled to their opinion. In their eyes, I remain guilty by association."

"People can change and situations can change," says Vijay. He believes that, with his father due home from prison in February.

"Exactly! So much can change. We are unlikely to be in a relationship ten years from now," says Malcolm. He looks affronted as he pushes away. "I don't just want Harvard, Vijay. My career begins after. I've got a friend in the NYPD. I'm going to use that to get into Quantico. I plan to give my entire life to the work."

"What about right now?" says Vijay. He feels pretty damn rejected. He hasn't been this pissed since his mom shipped him off to school. "Are you deigning to be with me before you're on your way?"

"No, I like you. I really, really like you," blurts Malcolm. The light pools in his eyes. His skin glows despite the dark circles. He looks little and precious and Vijay wants to pat the top of his soft, brown hair.

"Are you saying you like me because I'm the hottest guy on campus?" says Vijay.

"Answer the question, Whitly," insists Vijay when Malcolm breaks into a nervous laugh. A couple teardrops fall in the lamplight. 

"Sure. I'm using you for your body," says Malcolm. He raises his hands like he's been caught out.

"Okay, but am I the hottest guy on campus?" Vijay's fingers go between Malcolm's fingers, folded and entwined. Malcolm's palms are unbelievably soft, unlike his calluses from pumping iron.

Malcolm hums thoughtfully. "Hmmm, you're the hottest guy on the team, certainly. I'll have to attend one of your games for an in-depth comparison. Maybe join in with the cheering."

"Awww, baby boy, you'd come and cheer me on?" says Vijay. His eyes glaze over as he pictures Malcolm dancing for him. 

"I would. For you and your friends." Malcolm withdraws his hands and resumes their walk to heated dorms.

"Hold up. Who else you looking at? Splain yourself, Lucy!" Vijay hounds him all the way to their room. Though Vijay doesn't have one jealous bone in his body, Malcolm's type is high priority information. Malcolm is also fun to chase.

* * *

Vijay can't break his habit of saying hi to everyone in the dining hall. It gets worse as camaraderie with his team mates deepens after their first match against Dalton Warblers. Malcolm eats while Vijay mingles. This week Malcolm is on an Agatha Christie reading spree.

"Hey, I have a fun idea. Let's try sitting at a different table," suggests Vijay. "Right in the center." 

Malcolm sighs. "We are roommates. I see you every day. I think we may continue our relationship as roommates if you want to sit with your friends."

"What? No. They'll think we're fighting if I leave you alone. I don't want to be the worst boyfriend," says Vijay.

Malcolm closes his book and slips it into his tote. "Your friends know about us?"

"No. I didn't say anything," says Vijay. At Malcolm's skepticism, he reiterates. "I didn't. But they're not dumb jocks, Malcolm."

Vijay sighs. "Some of them started talking about you, but I shut it down. You know what I think, Malcolm? You're kind of hard to approach and if our Campus Coordinator did their job right and let you keep your own room, I wouldn't know how to talk to you either."

"Familiarity breeds contempt, in my experience," says Malcolm.

"It doesn't have to be every night," wheedles Vijay. He's like a giant panther with eyes as wide as saucers.

"This is sounding more like a custody battle," scoffs Malcolm. "I can't sit with them, Vijay. I'll know what they're thinking. I get tired in bigger groups. It'll be exhausting for me. You're expecting to get the best of both worlds, but that's not how it will go."

Vijay frowns, but Malcolm's not done.

"I swear I won't take it personally when you choose to sit at their table. Broaden your horizons. Feeding your social needs is as important as meeting your physical need for nourishment and safety," says Malcolm.

"Can you do one dinner with me and my friends? Just one. You can leave early. Say you're studying, if you get tired," says Vijay. He's pushing it and he knows it.

Because Malcolm does want to make him happy, he goes along with what Vijay asks of him. Vijay makes sure that Malcolm sits at the end of the table. He sits between Malcolm and the rest of his friends, not as a barrier but a bridge.

He thinks things get better when they win their first away game versus McKinley Vikings. After a couple weeks of Malcolm cautiously making small talk, Vijay goes to the bathroom and comes back to a quiet table. Ellison, who is their team's playmaker, joined dinner late. Ellison sits in Vijay's spot. Malcolm hunches in his chair, twitching each time a classmate's large shoulder bumps him.

As soon as he sees Vijay, he stands up, tote bag already strapped to go. "Hey, I'm behind on my reading. Good night, everyone," says Malcolm to everyone, to Vijay.

Malcolm pulls that disappearing shit on him of studying until late and getting the earliest start to class. Vijay figures out that Malcolm only stops in their room during practice. In a calculated manner, Malcolm continues to sit with Vijay at his friends' table where Vijay can't corner him. The only time they touch is when they're around other people.

"Redrum! Redrum! VIJAY gonna kill someone!" his teammates comment when he's more aggressive during scrimmage. He is on the offense, taking his shot at the goal. Manning pretends that his hands are on fire when he throws back the ball. 

Then when Vijay sleeps, back turned to Malcolm's immaculate bed, he can pass the fuck out.

He feeds his coach some bullshit about having diarrhea and then runs like hell to get to his room before the end of practice. He busts through the door, heart pounding and dripping with sour sweat. Vijay has already fucked up before he gets one foot in because Malcolm is crying by himself. No chest guard. No shirt. Utterly naked on a towel neatly spread over the bedding.

"Shit!" says Vijay. He backs the fuck up and shuts the door. 

Malcolm opens the door in a T-shirt and his pajama bottoms. His hair is wet. His towel is around his shoulders, hanging down the front of his shirt.

"What is it? What happened?" Vijay wants to know when he finally gets Malcolm alone. He pulls up his chair and sits on it backwards, crossing his hairy arms on the back of the chair.

"I don't like your friends," says Malcolm. He shrugs and then he looks down at his feet. "I just didn't want to be a girl about it."

Vijay looks at Malcolm and hears someone who is judgmental and self-critical to a fault. He didn't see it before he truly listened.

"Malcolm, I can't do this anymore." Vijay sags in his chair. "You had a couple weeks to talk to me and it's not working. It's bumming me out. I skipped out of practice for you. And this is what I get. We have to break it off, man."

"Oh. Got it. You did make your decision. That's good. It's healthier to nip it in the bud," Malcolm concludes brightly.

"We'll always have the corner table," says Vijay. He's conflicted about the fact that Malcolm won't try a bit harder to keep him. "Can I still sit with you sometimes?"

"If you want," says Malcolm. "Land of the free. Home of the brave and whatnot."

He is not trading Malcolm for a tableful of friends. He's not.

Less than a week later, their Campus Coordinator emails Vijay with Abraham the R.A. cc'd. Vijay gets news that he'll be moving in with a freshman whose roommate withdrew in the fall. He reads the email three times. This sudden change smacks of Whitly.

But honestly? Vijay is pretty wrecked. He needs his team, more than ever. They invite his freshman roommate along for movie outings or morning jogs. They make sure he doesn't sit alone in the dining hall. He attends his practices. He tapes his sprained fingers and eats mud from the spring rains, just like his friends.

Whenever he catches sight of Whitly, he looks like a dream walking. Perfectly sized clothes sit well on him, lean and clean. He is combed and gelled. The appearance of his under eyes lightens. Vijay gets a closed lip smile with the appropriate show of good humor. 

"You don't look so hot, Chandasara," says Manning. Goddamn goalie just has to catch everything. "Is it a girl?"

"No," says Vijay. He never thought of Malcolm like that. Because Malcolm was baby boy.

* * *

His dad calls him from a new phone number, Jersey area code. 

"Hello, my son of whom I am proud." It's March. Vijay has no patience. 

"Dad, did you get the mail today?" Vijay hears the paper rustling through the call.

"Are you referring to the university letter addressed to you, my son?"

"Dad!" Vijay hears the familiar chuckle that usually goes with a pinch to his cheek.

"I am sorry, son. I thought it might help if I told you. This university sends its regrets," answers his dad. "I do not like Boston. Their team is cursed. I am glad you are not going."

"Is that the letter from BSU?" asks Vijay. He scratches the back of his head in aggravation. Vijay is, of course, very grateful that no hit men are after his family, but he's not completely oblivious as to why shady characters might want his father dead.

"Indeed. Oh, I see. Yes. I should have said." More flapping sounds through their phone line. "I hope you like New York in fall, _maro popat_! You attend Columbia. We will need Daddy's drug money."

"Dad!!"

"The lines are not recorded. I did not hear click," says the old man. Jail has mellowed him.

Thankfully, Vijay's mom confiscates the phone. "You are tall because of your daddy pulling on your leg for many years. Do you want Mommy to bring you your happy letter when we come visit you?" Both of his parents and his siblings and one cousin will attend an away game against Brunswick School. He will see them in Jersey. The last soccer match is home at Granite Bay.

Vijay charges out on the green, cleats pounding, teeth bared, grass clippings falling from the ball as he makes goal. It's the least he can do when his dad keeps a promise. He scores, for their family. 

Brunswick is a loss 1-3. Vijay experiences one of the happier nights of his life when his team and his family and coaches invade several greasy booths in a Jersey diner. He and Manning and fellow losers pose for photos with "Ls" on their foreheads. They do a cheer of Gran Bae Wyverns, roaring for their food platters.

Being at home makes them all stars. One hundred and thirty yards of turf is all theirs. Wyverns out for blood. The ball socks him in the solar plexus and he takes a roundhouse kick to his boob and he loses skin on his shins from a rough slide, but Vijay is otherwise flying on the rush. He wants to finish the game. They want an ender. Their last match is victory 7-0.

After shower and food and sleep, the guys gather around to bust out jerky and beer and Mario Party. Usually Vijay would bring in some kush, but he's not about that anymore. They are so loud cussing each other out that two R.A's from the floors adjacent to them check in. With the party broken up and his body amped, Vijay sneaks out to the field. He feels like running 100 laps.

He does one lap without breaking a sweat. He stops when he hears clapping. As he approaches the bleachers, Vijay hesitates because it's the person he wasn't thinking about.

"Great game," calls out Malcolm. 

Vijay pulls at his shirt to wipe his mouth. He takes a quick sniff to gauge how stinky he is. He relaxes when he smells deodorant.

"Were you cheering us on, Whitly?"

"Noooo, just you," says Malcolm. He giggles. Glassware clinks on the aluminum seats. It's a small mason jar with a limp Twizzler, the end bitten off for Malcolm to use like a wax straw.

Vijay takes a sip. "How the flip do you get served bourbon in these parts." He is a bit worried. While it's not a big honking jug, Malcolm is a little guy.

"Mother won't miss it," says Malcolm. "I nabbed it for club activities."

"Right on, Whitly! Corner Table boys are back!" Vijay missed him. After a few more gulps, he suggests, "Let's take this to the Corner Table!"

"It'll be locked down," says Malcolm.

"I know where Mrs. Tubman stashes an emergency key," says Vijay. He sends a blessing to the lunch lady. Malcolm remembers where the security cameras are and they slink around potted plants and crouch behind plates mounted on pedestals.

The chairs are stacked separately from the tables which are pushed to the dimly lit walls. Vijay sportingly locates and drags out the round little table to their usual spot, no small feat in the semi-darkness. Their only source of light is what filters through the windows from the lamp posts outside. Malcolm clambers onto their table. Vijay grabs Malcolm when his wrist slips and saves Malcolm from falling ass over head. 

"My hero. Cheers!" exclaims Malcolm.

" _Utsāha_!" Vijay grabs the mason jar and finishes the contents. He pitches the jar into the bin reserved for recyclables. The glass smashes. "Woops." At least it's in the bin.

Malcolm is spinning on the seat of his pants.

"The President of our club has arrived," announces Vijay, meaning himself. "Veeps, you gotta get yourself together."

"Veeps?" repeats Malcolm. He stills on the tabletop and swings his legs.

"V.P. Vice Prez," clarifies Vijay. He grabs Malcolm's knee. "Don't kick your legs."

"Why not?"

"Cuz then I can't..." He trails off and runs his hand up Malcolm's leg. Just the outer seam of Malcolm's pants. Vijay bows his head. He closes his eyes when Malcolm's thumbs rub his earlobes, fingers running down the hairs on his nape before they lace together around his neck. Vijay rubs the underside of Malcolm's raised arms, squeezes Malcolm's shoulders, and then holds him close.

"I got into Columbia," he says. "I scored a goal and my dad saw me do it."

"That's amazing. You're amazing. I love you, Vijay." Malcolm smooches his neck and it brings back everything that Vijay thought he lost. Vijay cups Malcolm's chin and angles his face for a gentle meeting of lips. Malcolm responds hungrily, opening his mouth, and inviting Vijay to take more. His legs wrap around Vijay's hips and Vijay easily lifts him up. 

Vijay stuffs his hand down the back of Malcolm's pants. Vijay gets hard in his shorts as he paws and squeezes Malcolm's ass under the briefs. Malcolm grinds his crotch on Vijay's firm length. Malcolm lifts Vijay's shirt, baring his abs. He rolls Vijay's shirt all the way up to his pits. Vijay exclaims in surprise when Malcolm's bare chest collides with his. Vijay doesn't see or feel Malcolm unbuttoning all the way down. Malcolm pantses him; the shorts drop past Vijay's knees. Vijay unbuckles Malcolm's belt and helps Malcolm shimmy out of his pants. Shoes drop. Vijay grabs his ankle and feels up his calves. Then he devours Malcolm with another kiss that lays him out on the table. 

Without good lighting, everything is warm shadows. He noses into Malcolm's soft hair, lightly scented with botanicals. Vijay feels around for the hairs under Malcolm's arms. His flat hand slides down the sweat on Malcolm's bare chest and palms the damp curls of Malcolm's sex. He needs to feel everything, to fill in what he can't see. Malcolm is doing likewise. Vijay welcomes the exploratory touches down his back, around his ass firmed up from weights. Malcolm's in-step strokes the back of Vijay's legs and he instinctively thrusts into darkness. Malcolm grips the base of his cock. The tabletop squeaks as Malcolm moves closer to Vijay.

Vijay's strangled yell breaks the hush as Malcolm takes him in. There's enough lamplight through the wide windows that he can see the whites of Malcolm's eyes and his irises like drops of silver. He gets a savage kind of exhilaration when he pistons his hips and Malcolm screams for him. He should've been fucking Malcolm every night with lights on in their room. Should've been eating Malcolm for dinner every single fucking night. Because this late in the year, knowing their time is over, he's starving and he can't slow down, can't make it last, can't do anything but pound Malcolm into their table. 

Vijay peels Malcolm from the tabletop, hands on his hips, picking up Malcolm to slam him deeper. Vijay pushes himself past the point of no return.

Malcolm begs him not to stop. He's not going to get forever inside Malcolm. Oh God, if he could. 

"I love you, baby boy," says Vijay. He can't stop it.

Vijay groans as he pulls out, his cock dripping from partial release. Malcolm cries from the loss. Vijay gets on his knees, dick hard and leaking, and buries his face between Malcolm's legs. Malcolm shakes the table when he comes in Vijay's mouth. Malcolm is a limp mess but when Vijay pushes his cock onto Malcolm's lips, he moans and gamely licks and sucks and opens himself to getting filled again, on the taste of him and Vijay together. Malcolm gets fed at their table.

By some miracle, Vijay and Malcolm get dressed and fumble out the dining hall and back to their dorms in a route that avoids the cameras. Vijay walks Malcolm to his room and kisses him because they are both young men who are in love.

"Goodnight, Vijay," says Malcolm. "And good luck."

"Back atchu, baby boy," says Vijay, with a wink. He lets Malcolm go, but it's a fight. He doesn't hear the lock turn. He could just-- Vijay unsticks his face and his hand from Malcolm's door and runs.

* * *

Summer is weird. Vijay sleeps in the guestroom of his family's house in Jersey. His things are mostly boxed in the garage, much of it nothing that he would take with him to New York. Yet when he walks into an unfamiliar kitchen, he can smell his parents' and his sisters' cooking. His mother's taste for decor echoes the old house.

Vijay picks up a summer job in the mall. He drives himself and his siblings to the community pool and to the beaches. Because Vijay hates himself, he looks up GPS directions from NYC to Boston. He listens to Summer Nights when he is alone in the family mobile and punches himself in the nuts.

He thought going to school in New York would feel like coming home again. But the house in his old neighborhood went off the market. There's way more trees and pockets of green spaces than he remembers. He's said goodbye to friends at his old academy before they, too, pack up for college. 

He stays in touch with Marsalis who is bound for NYU. They meet up once for dinner and bowling and arcade games near Greenwich Village. Vijay's jacked metabolism leaves him hungry after him and Marsalis hug with plans for a basketball game. His default craving is Indian.

He finds a small Indian take-out joint with people waiting out the door beneath a neon orange chili pepper. Many of them are NYU students chattering about class registration and dormitory woes. He is two bodies away from the ordering window when eyes like from a dream float past him. Vijay steps out of line.

"Whitly!" he says.

Malcolm pauses. He's wearing an oversized shirt with one shoulder peeking out. He's holding a pile of bagged styrofoam containers. It's more like a tower.

"I go by Bright now."

"Of course you do. How the hell are you, man?"

"Let's have our reunion elsewhere," suggests Malcolm.

"Where are you headed? I didn't think you'd be in the city," says Vijay. He quiets when Malcolm swipes his NYU student ID for admittance to a building on Washington Square. Vijay follows him to a suite of rooms on the second level.

"You attend NYU?" Vijay's guts cramp and he's not hungry anymore.

"For now. I'm withdrawing from all my classes this semester. Hopefully, I can register for the spring," says Malcolm. They're inside a room with painted white blocks void of Malcolm's personality. "I've had a change of heart. I was going to call you if I let it go far enough."

"Malcolm, put the food down," says Vijay. He takes the bag and sets it on a bare desk drawer. He faces the rounded stomach on Malcolm's slender frame.

"I've been craving Indian food like crazy," says Malcolm. 

* * *

Malcolm plans to stay in New York with family who will help him. He gives Vijay a choice, an out.

Vijay offers up a small gift bag. 

Malcolm laughs hysterically when he pulls out a baby onesie with a certain logo printed on it. It's a retro mess of aqua green, magenta, and cotton candy pink. Malcolm smooths out the gender neutral onesie over the bump. 

"Corner Table Boys, for life," promises Vijay to Malcolm and the newest member of their exclusive club.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi OP! *waves* Surprise!
> 
> Many thanks to prompter for throwing me a wild plot bunny to chase down.
> 
> DIFFERENCES FROM CANON: They were friends in 9th grade. Fic has them meeting in 12th grade. Mr. Chandasara actually went to the slammer for cocaine, not heroin.
> 
> RANTING SO MUCH RANTING ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS AFTER: While Vijay was enjoying his summer, Malcolm keeps the baby and gives up Harvard. Vijay continues to go to Columbia and he spends time with baby, Malcolm, Whitlys. Malcolm picked NYU so he can stay with family, watch his baby, and work out his relationship with Vijay. 
> 
> While they are in school, Malcolm and Vijay focus on studies and family time. But after they finish college (4-5 years), I like to think that they re-visit their romantic attraction. Vijay is pressured by his family to do the right thing, but the fact that Malcolm carries on as a man would challenge traditional marriage.
> 
> If they work out, Malcolm would dress up as a groom in Indian wedding. They would have a long engagement because Vijay knocks him up a couple more times when they're about to pick a date. ^___^;;;;
> 
> Malcolm becomes a prosecuting attorney in criminal justice. He has to wait until his last kid born for sex reassignment surgeries.
> 
> They have wildly passionate fights as married husbands with children. But on the whole, they never go through with the divorce papers even when Malcolm accidentally totals Vijay's vintage Porsche.
> 
> None of them wants to break up their club. Corner Table ride or die lol.


End file.
